


You Were the Stars/I Was the Moon

by dirtypool



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, I’ll add tags as I need them!, M/M, Slow Burn, a lot of comfort probably, both are heartbroken and find solace in each other, seven is confused with his growing feelings for yoosung
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:46:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28887825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtypool/pseuds/dirtypool
Summary: ‘What a beautiful wedding,’ he thinks bitterly, ‘I want to go home.’
Relationships: 707 | Choi Luciel & Kim Yoosung, 707 | Choi Luciel/Kim Yoosung, Han Jumin/Zen | Ryu Hyun, Kang Jaehee/Main Character (Mystic Messenger)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	1. Finding Solace in the Stars That Resemble Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> I haven’t written an ongoing fic in over three years, so please bear with me! Enjoy!

His hands are shaking. 

He’s sweating; his palms are slick and his hair is a mess, but he can’t seem to slow down the racing thoughts in his head. It’s like he’s stuck on a racetrack, with race cars whizzing past and filling his ears with white noise. 

_Pull yourself together. You can’t let Zen down at his own wedding._

Taking a deep and shaky breath, Yoosung straightens his back and closes his eyes. 

Zen’s happier with Jumin anyways- Yoosung would’ve done nothing more than pull him down and make his life miserable. He knows more than anything that he doesn’t make a great boyfriend; he’s always feeling guilty or needy. Zen deserves better. 

Zen has this so-called better; Jumin is the best husband-to-be that he could’ve ever asked for. Yoosung’s seen the way his usual stone-cold face brightens when Zen enters the room, or how gentle he is when holding the actor’s hand. 

Yet, despite knowing that Jumin is better than he’d ever be, he still finds himself incredibly jealous- his skin crawls with it whenever he thinks of the two of them together. 

Yoosung wanted Zen, and he knows very well that he’ll never get him. He’s yet to accept this fact, and admitting this to himself makes his lavender eyes fill with hot tears again. 

His face burns. Why won’t he stop crying? He has to get ready for the wedding. 

He can’t let Zen down. The least he could do, after becoming such a burden to him, is to show up and be Zen’s best man. 

_I can do this._

It isn’t much, but it reassures him enough to stand from his bed and make his way to the closet where his suit is stored. 

_I’m going to be okay._

—

The venue is decked out in shades of white, the color almost reminding him of snow even though he finds himself in the beginnings of summer. 

He stands alone next to a table, the heavy drone of mindless chatter echoing around in his brain. He’s clutching a cup in his hands, but the beverage it once held was emptied long ago.

His head is buzzing as he stares at the man in a tuxedo with long, white hair that is chattering with Jumin across the room. 

The service had ended about half an hour ago, he thinks, but his mind had been too fogged to remember properly. He lowers his gaze to the hardwood floor before Zen can catch him staring, tears pricking the corners of his violet eyes. 

He needs to get fresh air, he thinks, so he places his empty cup down on the nearest table and pushes his way outside. 

The night air is heavy when he pads through the already-opened door, but it manages to clear his head. 

He walks farther away from the building, focusing on the chirping of crickets and the soft breeze of summer air. 

He hears a hardly concealed sob and looks up in surprise; his eyes darting towards the source of the sound. 

Seven is sitting alone on a bench, his back to the younger blond. Yoosung stares at the back of his signature black jacket before shaking his head at the sound of another badly covered hiccup. 

He moves quickly to his best friend’s side and sits down quietly. They don’t speak, and slowly Seven’s sobs begin to cease. Yoosung is staring at his own hands, flexing his fingers and studying the way his muscles move. 

“Sorry,” is all Seven says, and his voice is vulnerable, and it reminds Yoosung of an open wound. 

“Don’t be. You’ve done nothing wrong, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with crying,” he replies softly, turning his head to look at Seven’s eyes, puffy and red from the tears. 

Seven shrugs and looks up at the sky, rubbing the sleeve of his jacket under his nose. 

“It’s ironic, really,” the older male begins, “that there’s all this happiness going on inside, and I’m out here wallowing in my own sadness.” He lets out a low laugh, his eyes falling to the ground. 

Yoosung hums in thought, rolling a rock back and forth under his shoe. “Do you want to talk about it?” He offers, although he knows his own mental state is too weak to handle anything heavy. 

Seven shrugs again but meets his gaze, pools of gold swimming behind his striped glasses. 

“What’s your favorite color?” He asks instead. 

Yoosung startles at the change of topic but chooses not to mention it, instead opting to look over at the hacker with mild surprise and amusement. “Really? You don’t know?”

Seven shakes his head. “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.” 

The blond snorts, leaning back into the wooden bench. “Yellow.” 

Seven hums, tilting his head. “Why’s that?” 

“Dunno. I’ve always thought it was the prettiest color.”

“I think red is the prettiest color,” Seven counters teasingly, all previous sadness seemingly forgotten. 

Yoosung giggles. “No way, red isn’t pretty. I’d say it’s more of a cool color.” 

“So you think I’m cool?” Seven teases, twirling a strand of his red hair between his fingers. 

Yoosung grins at him, a laugh escaping his lips. Seven smiles down at him, his teeth almost glowing in the faint light. 

“Why are _you_ upset?” Seven asks suddenly, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. 

Yoosung blinks at the sudden change of tone, his eyes dragging over to the side to look at him. 

“I’m not upset.” He tries, but his voice breaks and it’s a dead giveaway. 

Seven clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Yes you are. Talk to me.”

“You’re one to talk, you were crying when I found you.” He knows it’s possibly rude to bring it up when Seven was obviously avoiding it, but he can’t help himself. 

The redhead shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Talk to me.” He repeats, and Yoosung knows his mind is set. 

The blond looks up at the stars again, his eyes tracing lines between the specks of faraway light. “It’s stupid, you’re going to laugh at me.” He mumbles. 

“No, I won’t, I pinky promise.” He responds, and Yoosung sees him hold out his pinky in his peripherals. Sighing, he connects their pinkies. Seven bounces their hands once, twice, and pulls away. “Now spill.”

Pulling his legs up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, he looks over at Seven. He’s staring at him intently, quite obviously ready to listen to whatever he has to say. 

Yoosung gulps. “I was in love with somebody who will never love me back. And,” he pauses, taking in a shuddering breath, “I’m not sure what hurts more; the fact that I knew that, or having to watch him slip away from me right in front of my eyes.” He hugs his legs to his chest tighter, his eyes filling with hot tears. “I really loved him and now I have to finally let go. I can’t tell if I’m more upset or relieved, to be honest; I’m just glad he’s found someone to love, more than he could ever love me.” He finishes, not daring to lift his head and connect eyes with Seven. 

The redhead audibly shifts in his seat and looks up at the stars. “I know how it feels.” 

Yoosung looks up. “What?” 

“Jumin. I was in love with Jumin. Today was the day that I finally had to let go.” He turns his head over to look at the blond. “It sucks, I know. I’m so sorry.”

Yoosung’s mouth runs dry, and he stares silently up at the older male. “Zen.” He whispers, and he fears his voice was lost in the summer breeze that flows around their bodies. 

“Zen?” Seven murmurs, tilting his head. “Ah. I get it. You were in love with Zen.” 

Yoosung wilts, biting the inside of his mouth. “Yeah. That’s funny, that we both fell for the grooms.” His voice falters. “The unattainable.”

Seven smiles a little. “I guess so.” And his golden eyes fill with tears and he slouches forward. 

Yoosung reaches out, grasping his pale hand in his own. “It’s okay, it’s okay…” he repeats softly, rubbing circles into his back with his free hand. 

And when Seven looks back up at him with watery eyes, his heart palpitates in his chest. It’s gone before he can truly acknowledge it, but he realizes something as he gazes back into the eyes that bore into him. 

Maybe letting go of Zen would be hard, but he would be able to get through it with Seven by his side. The thought is comforting in a way, and he smiles softly at the shaking and vulnerable redhead beside him. 

_Yeah_ , he thinks, _we’ll be okay._


	2. Overthinking, and the Problems That Ensue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A late night of thinking leads to an early morning of thoughts, and Seven invites Yoosung over to possibly talk.

_He’s always thinking._

Always analyzing. Always pulling everything apart with his eyes, studying every corner and nook and cranny and making sure he knows it inside and out. 

Seven’s always been like this, for as long as Yoosung has known him. His eyes are always sharp and alert, and he’s always on edge; like he’s constantly waiting for someone to pop around a corner to scare him. 

So that’s why, the night after the wedding reception, Yoosung lies awake in his bed with his eyes trained on the fading glow-in-the-dark stars he has stuck to his ceiling. 

Seven has never failed to notice another’s presence, so why didn’t he turn around to see Yoosung when he walked up behind him earlier that night?

 _Maybe it’s because he was in a vulnerable state,_ Yoosung thinks, before realizing that he’s never _really_ seen the older in such a state before. He squints his eyes and drags a finger to connect the fake stars midair. _Weird._

 _Well_ , he figures, _it’s not weird. It’s just… different. New._ He drops his hand and it lands with a soft _thump_ on his comforter. 

He’s thinking too much into it. Obviously Seven was upset, so maybe he was too distracted to turn around. _Or…_ he pauses, resting his hands on his stomach, _Maybe he knew I was there, but he trusts me enough to see him in shambles._

It didn’t make much sense; Seven has always been closed off to an extent, and never lets anyone truly close to him. 

_Weird,_ Yoosung thinks, but he doesn’t correct himself this time. _It’s weird that he was in love with Jumin Han._

_—_

He groans as he feels the hot morning sunlight hit his closed eyes, and he rolls over in bed. His alarm is going off beside his head, and he reaches over to smack aimlessly on the screen as an attempt to shut off the piercing noise. 

Once the noise stops, he snuggles back into his blankets with a content hum. Right as he feels the arms of sleep begin to engulf him again, he hears the notification for a new chatroom. He groans again, sitting up and snatching his phone. He opens the chatroom titled ‘HONEYMOON!!’

_Yoosung★ has entered the chatroom._

**707** : NEWLYWEDS!! how’s the honeymoon going??

**Jumin Han:** Perfectly. Thank you for asking.

**ZEN:** It’s been great!!! But Jumin, come downstairs soon! I’m almost done with breakfast. 

**Jumin Han:** Yes, of course. I still don’t see why you wouldn’t let me hire a personal chef. 

**ZEN:** Because!!! I don’t care about your stupid money! Now get down here now, idiot!

**Jumin Han:** On it. 

**707:** OOH~ a lovers quarrel, right away in the morning!

**ZEN:** Shut it… 

_Jumin Han has left the chatroom._

_ZEN has left the chatroom._

**707:** Suuuungie~~ how are you?!

Yoosung stares at his screen, his eyes still adjusting. The chatroom had moved so fast and the two newlyweds had left before he could even say hello. He shakes his head softly. 

**Yoosung★:** ah, good morning!! I’m good, how are you?

**707:** God Seven-Oh-Seven is always doing fantastic!!

_He sends his heart emoji._

**707:** Sungie, do you want to come over today? We can watch a movie or something!! I have… ★ HONEY BUDDHA CHIPS ★ 

Yoosung blinks once, twice. Maybe he’d be able to ask Seven about last night, although he thinks that maybe he shouldn’t pry. He didn’t have any plans today, or for the rest of the month for that matter, since he was out of school. 

Yeah, it wouldn’t hurt to see Seven again. 

**Yoosung★:** sure!!! what time should I come over?

**707:** hmm… any time is fine! just text me beforehand so I know when to expect the great Superman Yoosung’s arrival!!

Yoosung snickers at the nickname. 

**Yoosung★:** sure thing! see u soon ^u^

**707:** yep!!

**707:** agent 707, over and out!

_707 has left the chatroom._

Yoosung clicks the power button on the side of his phone and lets it tumble from his hands and back onto the bed. The time was 8am, which was earlier than he normally got up. His alarm would go off at 7:50, but he’d ignore it and go back to sleep anyways. 

He decides to start the day, so he pulls himself from the comfort of his blankets and pads over to the full body mirror on tired feet. He looks exhausted, but not like how he normally does. His goal during his break from school is to catch up on sleep, and he thinks that he’s been doing pretty well with that. 

As he’s digging around in his closet, he decides that he’ll go over to Seven’s house around noon. That gives him four hours to get ready and to eat breakfast, which is plenty of time. 

He sighs as he picks up his favorite lavender t-shirt and slings it over his shoulder, returning to dig through his mound of clothes for jeans. 

_This is going to be a long day._

—

The walk to Seven’s house isn’t a very long one, but he still decides to leave his apartment at 11:20. He locks the door to his room with nimble hands and tucks his keys into his jeans pocket. 

Phone in hand, he retreats from the apartment building, and behinds the trek to his best friend’s house. He doesn’t know what he’ll say when he shows up; will it be awkward after the previous night’s events? 

After they had both confessed their situations, they had sat in silence. Their eyes were trained on the stars, and they sat like that for an undetermined amount of time; and before he knew it, Seven was standing from his seat and tapping his shoulder, telling him that people were starting to leave. They had driven home together, as Jaehee and MC had given him a ride but had left beforehand. Seven dropped Yoosung off at his apartment with a quick smile and tired eyes before speeding off into the night. The blond didn’t know if he was glad to see the expensive sports car disappear into the darkness or not. The car ride had been awkward, the only noise being the soft hum of Seven’s playlist and the occasional small talk. 

Maybe it wasn’t awkward, maybe he was overthinking, maybe they were just tired. 

Something had changed last night, however, and Yoosung needed to stop ignoring it. Seven had opened up to him for the first time in the years that they’ve known each other, and that means that the redhead trusts him more than he thought. 

With a small smile on his face, Yoosung presses onwards. _Maybe,_ he thinks, _that moment has brought us closer._

He’s always thinking. 

  
  
  
  



	3. This Wilting Rose Reminds Me of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven visits the beach after dropping Yoosung off at his apartment, and he learns what it feels like to let go.

It’s midnight when he drops Yoosung off.

The ten minute drive from Yoosung’s apartment to his house quickly turned into a two-hour one when Seven decided to drive to the beach. The sand was cold when he stepped onto it, his shoes in one hand and a can of soda in the other. If he were anybody else, the soda would have been replaced with a beer, but Seven’s never liked the idea of alcohol. Red hair that matches his own flashes through his mind, accompanied with piercing yellow eyes. He shakes the thought from his head before he gets the chance to spiral again.

The redhead sits himself on the coarse sand, taking a long swig from his beverage. The stars were especially beautiful tonight, and Seven thinks it’s because the person he loved for so long was finally able to marry the person who made him happy. He sighs at the thought, leaning back on his hand. He’s glad that he was able to see Jumin bear a genuine smile tonight, even if it was directed at somebody else.

There’s a pit in his stomach when he swallows and reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out a dried rose. _The thing’s got to be almost three years old,_ he thinks, twisting it around in his fingers. It’s falling apart with age, so he’s surprised that it survived in his pocket.

He sets his can of soda down, twisting it side to side a few times so it sits securely in the sand. Rose in hand, he stands up and brushes off his backside before walking slowly towards the waves that lap at the shoreline. He flinches when the water touches his feet, the ocean being cold as the sun had set hours ago.

He looks out at the horizon at the waves that crash and smooth out, looking at the stars that twinkle overhead. It’s peaceful, he thinks, and he lets his eyes close for a moment. Behind his closed eyelids, he sees Jumin. The black-haired man is handing him a rose, one hand on the back of his neck. It was severely unlike him to be in this position, to be handing Seven a flower painted the same color as his own hair. Seven hated the color red before that moment, but when the person he loved handed him a red rose, his mind instantly changed. He had accepted the gift slowly, watching with careful eyes as Jumin held his hand out for a few seconds too long. He had laughed under his breath at the taller man, vision flicking upwards to look at his grey eyes that hid behind tousled black hair. Jumin had smiled at him, his teeth painfully white. Seven had returned the gesture, twirling the flower around in his hands.

When he opens his eyes and the feeling of the saltwater lapping at his feet returns, he pulls his hand up to his eye level to look at the very same rose. It was no longer bright red, but now a dull and saddened pink. He figures that it started to wilt when Jumin had taken notice of Zen. That would mean that, in the entirety of time that the rose had been in his possession, Jumin had never felt the same way. The flower was dead the moment it was cut from the bush.

Seven sniffles, his eyes growing heavy with unshed tears. He pulls his glasses away with his free hand and wipes them away, clutching the wilted rose tightly in his grasp. It was time that he let go.

With a heavy sob, he pulls back his arm and throws the rose into the ocean as far as he can. He doesn’t watch as it hits the water, instead choosing to turn away and walk back to his car. He picks up his can of soda on the way back, takes one last sip, and crushes it with his hands. He tosses it into a recycling can that resides in the parking lot.

His car is warm when he gets back inside, and he stares ahead blankly at the ocean before him. He knows that the tide will wash the rose back onto the shore soon, but he won’t come back to receive it. It was time he learned to let go.

_Goodbye, Jumin._

And with that, his chest feels lighter. His mind unfogs and he can breathe again, he can look at the black dashboard and seats that surround him and not think about the fact that it's the same color as Jumin's hair. He never thought the feeling of letting go would be so freeing. He hadn’t realized how much he constricted his world to the older male until now. It’s hard to say goodbye to a person he loved for so long, and his name will not be able to come up in conversation without feeling a sharp pang in his heart, but it’s a start. The fact that he’s trying to let go speaks millions of words at once. With this knowledge, he knows that he’s finally ready to heal.

So, with shaky hands, Seven starts his car. When he does, he looks over at the passenger side and sees Yoosung’s hair clips placed perfectly in the cup holder, and he manages a small smile when the image of his best friend flips through his mind.

 _At least I have Yoosung_ , he thinks, _at least I have someone who cares about me._

He pulls out of the parking lot and skillfully maneuvers his way back onto the main road. When he finally pulls into his garage and removes the keys from the ignition, it’s two in the morning. The walk from his car to his bedroom is sluggish, and he slips out of his clothes and puts on a white t-shirt in a sleepy haze. His bed calls to him, so he opts out of brushing his teeth for the night.

He slips under the covers and sighs deeply, peacefully falling asleep without thoughts of a black-haired male tainting his mind for the first time in years.


End file.
